Gale force winds and vertiginous monasteries

We have been so lucky with the weather on this trip. Long hot summer days in Norway and Finland, followed by a seemingly endless, warm and gentle autumn as we headed south through the Baltic states into Poland and Hungary. Romania and Bulgaria provided balmy days and plenty of sunshine, and that lasted well into our journey down through Greece. So we couldn't really complain when we found ourselves buffeted by a gale and driving rain while parked alongside the long beach at Veliko, a coastal resort at the top of the Pelion peninsula. 

Along the gorge

The day had started in far better shape at the car park under the shadow of Mount Olympus just outside Litochoro. On our walk around the village the day before we had noticed a sign to a trail so the following morning we harnessed up the spaniels, donned walking boots and rucksacks and set off. The path took us through the gorge carved out by the river Enipeus past stunning rock formations. The icy waters were no barrier to Max who decided to plunge in for a swim. Eventually we climbed the path up to the goat pastures at the top of the hill before walking back down a quiet road to Florence, pausing only to peer through the gates of a monastery on the way down.

The colour of the water was stunning

The journey to Veliko took us through flat farmland and along a winding coastal road until we dropped down to the sea. Veliko was closed for the winter, the beach bars deserted and most of the properties, obviously holiday homes, shuttered up. Having taken ourselves to bed we were awoken by the strong winds battering Florence and the sound of the rain hammering down on the roof, coupled with waves crashing into the nearby beach. The following morning things had calmed down enough to take the spaniels for a game of ball on the beach, but waterproofs, hats and gloves were the order of the day. For us, not the spaniels

To hell with the weather when there are balls to play with

We had planned to spend more time in this area, following a recommendation from a friend, but the weather made us decide we might be better off inland. Accordingly we took the winding mountain road towards Larissa and decided to head for the village of Kastraki where we had identified a campsite that was open all winter. We rarely use sites but, having been cautioned to plug into mains electric now and again, following the fitting of new batteries, we decided to make an exception. Our solar panel was also struggling with the lack of sun. The site itself was deserted when we arrived, not surprisingly, but a quick phone call found the owner who told us to park wherever we liked and he would see us in the morning.

Pictures do not do justice to Meteora

The main purpose of visiting this area was to see Meteora, an amazing rock formation of immense natural pillars and hill-like rounded boulders on which, over the years, 24 monasteries had been perched, seemingly defying gravity as they hung off the edge of the precipitous drops. The original monasteries had been built to allow the monks to be safe from Turkish invaders, the bricks of the walls continuing straight up from the natural rock. The only way up was by ladders, which were pulled up when danger threatened, or baskets on ropes into which visitors climbed to be hauled up the rock face. Today four monasteries and two nunneries remain and have become tourist attractions. 

Thankfully we didn't need the ladder

Having walked the spaniels around the village which sits against the towering rock faces, we drove up the winding road to the monastery of Roussanou, which is now a nunnery. Thankfully steps have been provided to reach the building, which was constructed in the middle of the 16th century. We got the impression that the elderly nun collecting the entrance money was not too enamoured with having visitors, and would rather be in her cold cell flagellating herself, assuming this is what nuns do. Neri's jeans did not pass muster, they showed the shape of her legs, so she was sent to put on a wrap-around skirt, a number of which were hanging up in the vestibule. However their small chapel was beautiful with the walls decorated in the colourful icons which are so much part of the religious life of Greece. Our impression of the dour nature of nuns was changed when, having popped into the shop, a younger nun was leaning against the counter chatting away on her mobile phone. I tried a smile for the nun at the entrance when we left, but she was having none of it. I am obviously cursed.

The chapel walls  of Roussanou are covered in paintings

We did try and visit the monastery of Varlaam, the second largest in the area, but it was

The worst sinner got to lay the first brick

closed on Thursdays and Fridays. There are only seven monks in residence so they are outnumbered by the cats who live in the car park, and which had Elsa jumping at the windows desperate to get out. The weather had clamped in again so we continued up over the top of the hills through thick cloud and headed back down to the plains. 

We decided that the weather was not going to get any better and that we should start heading further south. We took the A3 motorway from Trikala which crosses large areas of flat farmland. Now and again we had to pause for a toll booth. The Greek motorway system is run by a number of different companies, all of whom set their own tolls at a bewildering variety of prices. We had become used to paying a euro or two around Thessaloniki but things got more expensive on the A3. The first toll booth charged us €4.95 but, by the second, the price had risen to €7.60. It seemed the latter toll was to pay for the rather posh tunnels through which we passed. Having done battle with Google maps, which often seems determined to take us on the most roundabout route, we turned off the E65 just north of Lamia, to find a quiet parking space on the edge of a minor road. The rain has stopped and we are promised a clear and sunny day tomorrow.